


Comfort and joy

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-18
Updated: 2002-02-18
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: When Walter is hurt, Alex offers a little medical attention, some comfort and plenty of joy.





	Comfort and joy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Comfort and joy

## Comfort and joy

#### by Laurel

Title: Comfort and joy  
Author: Laurel  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website:   
Date Archived: 02/18/02  
Category: Hurt/Comfort  
Pairing (Primary): Skinner/Krycek  
Pairing(s) (Secondary):   
Crossover Fandom (if any):   
Crossover Info (if any):   
Other Pairing Info:   
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: None, but Alex has one arm  
Permission to Archive:   
Series or Sequel/Prequel:   
Notes:   
Warnings:   
Disclaimer:   
Summary: When Walter is hurt, Alex offers a little medical attention, some comfort and plenty of joy.

I knew something was wrong when I saw the door parted just half an inch open. Maybe it wouldn't be noticeable to someone just casually walking by: neighbors, delivery boys, visitors, but I'm always on the alert. That open door was a ringing alarm against my ear. 

I took out my gun and stepped gingerly towards his door. I poked a finger out and it opened with a soft whisper. I held the gun steadily in both hands, one real and sweating, the other cool and fake. I scanned left and right. Peered behind the door. Nothing. 

My ears were attuned for any sound, no matter how slight. The first sound I heard was a low moan. My eyes saw nothing but someone was hurt. It had better not be Walter. His condo was silent again briefly before a scratching sound came from behind the couch. Now his leg came into view. 

He was lying there, his face battered, barely moving. There was a gash on his head and blood had poured down the side of his craggy face, down his thick neck and into the collar of his suit shirt. 

My hand clenched and I began to shake with rage and fear. 

Calm down, I advised myself. That little voice in my head was trying hard to quell my heart beating like spraying gunfire. I told the voice to shut the fuck up already. 

After satisfying myself that Walter's pulse was strong and steady I scoped out the rest of the apartment. It was empty but drawers had been pulled open and searched. It was a professional job but sloppy considering how neat and organized Walter is. All his possessions were in disarray. Maybe the casual observer wouldn't notice a pen out of its stand but I did. Okay, so the magazines and legal pads weren't stacked with medical precision but that's the way Walter liked it. 

It was hard to do but I managed to hoist him up and half drag, half carry him upstairs. He was conscious now but stunned. He let me help him without questioning my presence, without pulling away. 

I got him stripped and sitting on the bed wearing only his tight white briefs. Christ he looked good enough to eat. I licked my lips unconsciously. He stared at me and frowned as if just realizing who I was. Before he could come completely to his senses and chase me away, I took action. 

"First aid kit?" 

"In the bathroom." 

His ribs weren't busted but the purplish splotches definitely made me think they were at least bruised. First off I gave him one of those instant ice packs to slap on his bruised face and swelling eye. 

I carefully cleaned the cut on his face. Head wounds always bleed like crazy, so although it looked like he'd lost a lot it was just a superficial cut. A butterfly bandage closed it up. I wiped the blood off his face, jaw and neck. He nuzzled his face a little into my cupped hand. As if realizing what he was doing and who he was doing it with, he quickly straightened up. 

I had him follow my slowly moving finger with his eyes, trying to check for a concussion. I'm no doctor but I've seen plenty of ER reruns. I checked each pupil to see if they were the same size. He wasn't dizzy anymore but he had a headache. No nausea and no confusion were good signs too. He hadn't been out of it for long. Probably less than five minutes, which meant I'd just missed the thugs who'd worked him over. 

He told me it had been exactly six thirty seven when he'd entered his condo, took off his jacket and poured himself a glass of scotch when they attacked. The sun had been setting, the final glow of the sun blazing into the room while he got beaten. A third man had ransacked the place looking for something but he didn't go into details. 

"Let's get you into the tub." 

I ran the water until it was hot, filling it with bath oil and Epsom salts and a dash of bubble bath. 

"It'll do wonders for those sore muscles," I told a protesting Walter. 

Not to mention I'd get a thrill out of seeing him naked. 

He reluctantly shed his pristine undies and I helped him into the tub. He gave a sigh of pleasure as he sank into the hot water. Bubbles floated all around the surface, momentarily obliterating the soft pink cock nestled in a patch of brown curls. The bubbles gently kissed his chest before they exploded with an inaudible pop. 

I left him the ice pack to soothe his bruises and paused at the door. In my best screen siren voice I told him, "If you need help, just whistle. You know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow." 

I pursed my lips together and chuckled when he gave a grunt and held up his middle finger in a rude gesture. 

He needed help to dress but tried to shoo me away. I'd grabbed a pair of gray sweat pants and a white tee shirt for him to wear as well as a pair of white briefs. He must have had two dozen pairs, all in white or gray. I'm lucky if I have seven pairs to last me the whole week. Sometimes I just have to go commando. 

I fed him some heated up soup, which he ate carefully. His split lip was covered in salve but the soup was hot. He blew each mouthful before putting it in his mouth. 

He regarded me with suspicious eyes as I helped him to bed. I argued with him over a massage but finally I shoved his hands away and firmly took hold of his tee shirt. I pulled it over his head and threw it at the bedside chair. The massage oil was orange and lemon scented. I added a few drops of rosemary to clear his head and soothe his headache. It's a good thing he believes in aromatherapy. 

Still protesting I straddled him and poured the oil over his broad firm back. I knew I was doing well when he groaned in blissed out tones. I turned him over. He held still while I gently massaged his temples, rubbing with my good hand. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent deeply. 

I was careful with his ribs and chest. The bruises had deepened in color. He panted through the pain as I tenderly rubbed him there. His muscles may have been relaxed but one muscle was sticking straight out. His sweats couldn't cover the bulge at his groin. I slipped his pants down. His legs kicked them the rest of the way off. Walter was motionless, waiting for my next move. 

I took off my clothes, turning when I removed the arm. I didn't think he'd want to see that but I was wrong. He sat up and helped me instead. I must have looked startled so he pressed a kiss on my nose and tried to help me gather my clothes. I pressed him back on the bed and ordered him to lie still. 

I found condoms and lube in his drawer. He scooted up to the head of the bed and plumped up the pillows underneath his head. 

"Let me do everything," I told him. 

He nodded. 

He was laid out before me just like in my dreams. Only my dreams dissolved like cotton candy melts in your mouth. 

The ever present tension, living my life waiting for the ambush that would come, the car bomb, the shot in the head, rat poison in my breakfast cereal, disappeared and was replaced by Walter's smiling face. 

I smiled back at him. He opened up the foil packet for me and I slid down to his crotch. My tongue did the rest. Nice trick I'd picked up. Flicking a condom down a hard, juicy cock always got them groaning. I gripped him at the base and measured him expertly with my eye. A good nine inches long. I licked my lips and put out my hand for the lube. He squirted a generous amount into the palm of my hand. I slicked it up and down his cock while I nipped at the moist skin of his inner thighs. 

I held my hand out again and automatically he filled my palm with lube again. I straddled him and spread my legs wide, coating my asshole with the slick gel. He looked startled. I didn't know if it was because he expected to get fucked or if it was because I was fingering myself. 

He grabbed my ass and pulled me closer. "Let me do that." 

I pulled my hand away and the pressure was replaced by his thick fingers. He had three up there by the time I slapped his hand away. I wanted to come all over him while he was inside me. 

He held his cock steady as I lowered myself on it. The thick head pushed inside causing momentary pain. I breathed out heavily and closed my eyes, willing the muscles to relax. As soon as he began to penetrate me I slid down a little lower, already feeling the sparks of pleasure sizzling in my ass. 

He bottomed out in me with a grunt. I had to adjust the angle and when my legs were at just the right bend, and his cock stroked lightning on my prostate I went to town on him. 

My gasps and moans sounded pretty lonely in the silent room until his own groans joined mine. 

He had both hands cupping my ass, which I love, as I bounced on him. He took one hand off my body and took my hand in his, twining our fingers together. I held his hand tightly while we fucked. 

"Come on boy ride me," he growled. 

That got me moving faster. I always knew he'd be a good fuck what with that studly body of his, all that pent up tension that expressed itself in his stiff cock and those unwavering brown eyes that watched me intently were a wet dream. But combine that with his growled orders and I was a goner. 

I was so close I had to close my eyes against the pleasure and I came hard, screaming his name. 

I collapsed on him bonelessly, my cum spurting out all over his chest and belly, painting it creamy white. 

Walter shouted out and pumped his cock further into my ass holding on to me with both hands. I was sure he'd bruise the hell out of my tender ass cheeks but I didn't care. 

I barely had the energy to clean us both up and dispose of the sodden condom. I started to get dressed again but reluctantly. I decided to ask him what I wanted, steeling myself for rejection. 

"Can I stay the night?" 

"If you don't stay the night, I'll hunt you down and kick your ass in, boy. Now get undressed." 

I giggled again. So boy could be a derogatory term, a sexual nickname and an endearment, kind of. 

"Okay to take a shower?" 

"Go ahead." 

I kissed him gently, feeling myself blush. 

He groaned as ribs protested his sitting up position and his lips began to crack again. I apologized by smearing some more ointment on his mouth. 

"Be right back." 

I had to get my overnight bag from my car so I could at least put on clean underwear. I came back to his bed, slightly damp but clean. Carefully I snuggled up to him and rested my head in the crook of his arm. 

"Tomorrow's Saturday." 

"Yeah, all day," he replied sarcastically. 

"You're not going in to work in that condition?" 

"No. What about you? Busy?" 

"I've got a full plate. Breakfast at eight. A good hard fuck at nine. Shower at ten. Business meeting at eleven. Assassination at noon." 

He looked at me with narrowed eyes. 

"Just kidding. Except for the first three of course." 

What I didn't tell him was that after I left him I'd hunt down the creeps who'd beat him down. He didn't have to know everything. 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Laurel 


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